


Nothing Less Than a Work in Progress

by Nugg



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Animals, Death of a pet, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Unrequited Crush, dont worry it’s not akira lol, small slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nugg/pseuds/Nugg
Summary: “Why were you crying?”He paused, a gust of warm wind flowing between them as he weighed his words.“Why the hell did you chuck a water bottle at me?” He shot back, defensiveness Akira had known from a distance proving its existence as he narrowed his gaze.





	1. Chapter 1

        It happened by accident.

         Really. It did… Akira wasn’t some freak who stalked unsuspecting classmates.

          He wanted to go eat his lunch by the koi, the small pond that probably shouldn’t be at a school where kids could potentially drown in it. To him, it seemed like more of a liability than anything. But, nobody but him made their way to the area anyway…

          Or so he’d thought. Nestled in a bush, wondering how someone in his grade wandered back behind the spot in school where the upperclassman lockers were. The leaves itched him, but he didn’t mind. He just wanted to know why there was a blond boy sitting close to the water, staring at the fish with an empty look in his eyes.

         The reflection in the rather dirty pond didn’t display the misery to his features. Squinting hard enough through his glasses to see the tears that streaked down his face. As depressing as the statement sounded, Akira had always assumed he was the only one who came back here to cry.

          The boy who sat there, he’d seen around school, he used to be on the track team. All peppy and vibrant, he’d broke his leg, had become reserved and quiet since the beginning of high school. The popular boy Akira remembered had black hair, and a upbeat personality. But, the one before him was drastically different, even from his changed looks, today, something was off. His spiky bleached locks fell flat. And his scowl was replaced by a faint frown, emptiness in his expression more than anything.

         Now, as creepy as he _did_ sound. Akira had never seen weeping so beautiful.

        The sniffling that could be heard through the leaves around them dancing in the breeze was quiet, matching his tears in sound. No open sobs had come from his mouth, only the few shaky breaths that made his whole body shiver.

         If only he could reach out… try and tell him it would all be okay. Whatever it may be, Akira could be there to comfort if he needed…

         That was pretty far up on the creepy meter, though.

           Sitting idly for a moment, Akira weighed his options, a particular stick poking him in the side was becoming annoying. He needed to get up and leave. Go eat lunch somewhere else and leave this poor guy to his feelings… but the issue of him being stuck in this bush…

          He’d really got himself in a predicament now, huh? There was no way he could get out of this situation without waiting for however long this dude cried it out for. He was the idiot that hid in a bush like a stalker anyhow, and now he’s paying for it. No matter where he exited, there was no way the dude wouldn’t see him. And, what kind of person peeps at someone?... _A creepy person._

           If someone popped out of some nice foliage while he was having a good sob session, Akira knew for a fact he’d be freaked the hell out. So, god, he was screwed.

          Screwed! _Screwed~_ with the lovely weather, beautiful trees above swaying gracefully. _Royally screwed_ with a crying blond boy and a bunch of fish, the tiny waterfall in the pond piecing together the serene area.

          Just… a perfect way to embarrass yourself, he guessed. Remembering that his phone was in his backpack, and that he’d have to make noise to go and get it. Further in the shit he found himself in, that he couldn’t even entertain himself through however long this whole thing would take.

         That was the plan. To wait it out like a loser, and chill in the itchy bush he plopped himself into.

          Carefully taking his water bottle from his bag. Ninja-like skills, careful hands, gripping the plastic gently as he maintained sight on the boy. _He could just take a sip-_ unscrew the cap- _and wait it out!_

          Again, _that was the plan!_

          Because, sitting in a bush had one thing he really didn’t account for.

 

      _Bugs_.

 

           Having one, gross and disgusting beetle, land directly on his arm, all the precautions were gone. He let out a sound that rivaled the subway lines break system, high pitched and shrill all the way around. Not a care in the world at that moment, that he was supposed to be hiding.

          The way his heart jumped five stories out of his chest, and despite how aggressively he shook his arm, it wouldn’t budge. He looked like a chicken waving his arms around as wildly as he was. Screeching all the while, watching in sheer terror as the gigantic bug stay still.

           When he burst up out of the bush, however, his panic ceased. Like a dolphin reaching the surface and pausing mid majestic jump. Frozen in mid scream, hair full of leaves, mouth gaped open in preparation to yell out.

           Arm cocked up, he couldn’t do much _but_ to stay still. Watching with a replaced terror, as the blond boy stared back at him, bewildered beyond belief.

           He’d fallen backwards onto his hands, frightened by Akira… and _oh boy_ he better be ready for Akira’s next move.

 

           The bug fucking, _bit_ , him.

 

            Scrunching up his face and winding himself up to scream, he tumbled forward. Rolling along the outside of the pond and breathing heavily as he hastily tried to rid his arm of the monster.

           Conveying the fact that he wasn’t insane came in the form of the panicky whines of, “ _ohmygod ohmygod get it off ohmygod help, help, help!! Bug! There’s a bug, ohmygod!”_

Flinging his head back into the soft grass, overdo on being cut, he stilled. Flailing coming to a halt, along with his alarming fear that took over his body. Taking one big breath that he’d neglected in his frenzied rampage, and glancing to his arm.

          The bug was gone. Thank god.

        However, the uneasiness in the boys features caught his focus. Finally coming to his senses, his heart began to race in a whole new way. Sucking in the air he was trying to breathe again, and cringing at how awful the situation played out. His plan to wait it out and not disturb his obviously somber classmate had _completely_ been tossed out the window, along with all forms of his composure.

         His water bottle lay empty. The boy sat, water dripping down the sides of his head, school shirt soaked through… Akira’s own hand stinging because- _lord,_ he did that.

          The sunlight caught in the sad boys hair, and highlighted the brown tint within, despite it being flattened with water, it still had a shine. Hands gripping the grass like it was second nature, eyes blown wide in a mix of confusion, and awe at the display before him. Evident tears still trickling down his face through it all, Akira took note to how nice his peachy tones looked in this type of weather, before ultimately realizing his idiocy.

           “What the eff…” he muttered, patting his own head, frown deepening.

           Slapping a hand to his face in anguish, he groaned audibly. Hearing the slight gasp coming from the boy as he promptly lifted his head up, and threw it back down as a lazy punishment. The sniffles from recovery of a good cry session louder than the symphony of leaves above the two.

             "I'm…”

         He’s what? He’s Akira Kurusu, the jackass who spied on you in your most vulnerable state? He’s sorry? He’s stupid? He’s every synonym under the word, “hopeless?”

         “Are you okay?” He asked, deciding his new and unplanned words as he rolled over to his stomach, dropping his chin into the grass.

         He watched as the dudes face twisted into all things _but_ understanding, barely visible brows pinched together as he stared down the weirdo before him. Still reeling from what just happened, he scoffed, “Me? You jus’ fell from a bush like your skin was melting off, I think that’s my line, dude.”

                 _Well he did have a point._

“I wasn’t being a creeper!” He quickly picked himself up, coming to his knees and waving his arms frantically to deny any thoughts. _Although, that’s something a creepy person would say._

Rolling his eyes at himself, he sighed and fell back. Watching out of the corner of his eye as a koi gracefully swam, almost like it was mocking everything that had just happened, “I usually come here for lunch. And I saw you and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and then I was being _stupid_ and- and- and-“

          The blond boy wiped his eyes with his palms, and Akira lost all his words. Remembering how captivated and awful he felt, enamored by his tears, how beautiful they looked to him. Furthering the argument to his claims of not being a creepy person by saying equally creepy things. Still caught up, at a standstill, in how amazing this stranger looked in all his misery.

         “Why were you crying?”

         He paused, a gust of warm wind flowing between them as he weighed his words.

          “Why the hell did you chuck a water bottle at me?” He shot back, defensiveness Akira had known from a distance proving its existence as he narrowed his gaze.

        Okay...  _He was pissed. Rightfully so._

Widening his eyes, Akira shook his head, “I didn’t do it one purpose. Oh god I feel awful- oh… oh!”

         He wasn’t doing himself any favors by acting as he was, quickly sifting through his bag, that had miraculously made it out of the bush without sending all his papers flying.

         “I have my hoodie! Wear it! I- I can take your shirt home and wash it for you!”

         The boy looked back at him like he’d just asked him to put his fucking foot in his mouth. Almost disgusted expression not a good match to his drying tears, he sniffled, and quickly dissolved into Akira’s proposition. Thankfully, sparing Akira any more moments of forcing a smile that probably rivaled all those fake dentist commercials.

          Except… this time, he wasn’t falsely excited for a good ole teeth cleaning. His fake beam some awful attempt to put the other at ease.

          It _really_ was not working at all. But, the blond boy slowly accepted the circumstances.

          Cautiously, he leaned forward, peering over Akira, and into his bag like something would pop out and scare him. Grey jacket squished up against an uneaten lunch, the boy sent a side eye full of suspicion.

          _The hell is he giving that look for? What would he possibly be hiding in his hoodie? A squirrel? Jeez-_ he had to stop his unruly thoughts before he muttered them out loud and made this whole situation a lot more horrible than it already was.

           Offering it over, wordless in shoving the bag into the blond guys face. He hesitated in taking it. Glancing down at his shirt for a moment, as if he needed to think about changing out of the soaked fabric.

           He reached in and grabbed it with all the wariness in the world. Gently laying a hand to it, before picking it up. Looking through a glossy gaze at Akira, something expected in his eyes. _Again?? Jeez, he really didn’t trust him… all… you know… jumping out of a bush aside._

           He waved his hand around in a circle, the dull-faced look he gave off directed towards the fluffy haired boy across from him. Perplexed look greeting him back, before sighing in tiredness of the whole situation.

         Akira cocked an eyebrow. 

         The blond boy's face showed enough annoyance to force his gestures into something understandable. It wasn't like he was purposely testing him! It really just wasn't Akira's day.

           And-  _Ohhh._ He was motioning for Akira to turn around!

         Quickly coming to his senses, he shuffled on his knees, plopping down in the opposite direction. Looking off into the distance at the beautiful scenery beyond the pond area. A privilege to third years, of bordering a vibrant and lush patch of forest. Out of place for the rather urban school.

         Reaching up out of habit, Akira began to fiddle with his bangs. Twisting and turning the locks between his fingers as he sat waiting, pursing his lips before continuing the conversation that really, never started. With a simple, “What’s your name, by the way?” As he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

           “Sakamoto Ryuji, and-“

           He paused. And Akira mimicked in stopping the twisting of his bangs.

          “Please don’t tell anyone about me cryin’... it’s just- it’s. Dead.”

           _Dead?_ What!? What did Akira get himself into? He was never good at dealing with his feelings, let alone others. And now he had to deal with _dying?_ Turning around, his feet adjusted to his back, and he faced the familiar scene before him. A loss for words at the new set of tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

Taking a deep breath, Sakamoto's fingers dug deep into the ground. Gripping the dirt between his fingers, and holding on tight. Like, if he where to let go, he would float away.

              The still wet spots from his tears glistened in the sun when the trees let it poke through. Sound of the leaves dancing, and the small waterfall within the pond filling the space between them. Dramatic pauses where never Akira’s thing.

             “I came home yesterday from school, my window open, my room a mess. And…”

           Sniffling again, Akira cringed at the oncoming tears, “My goldfish tank was tipped over. All them little rock’s scattered around my room…”

          _Holy shit this dude was bawling because of a goldfish?_

          He gestured lazily at the pond before covering his face again, fists pressed to his eyes to shield himself away, “It could’ve grown to the size of the fish in there.”

            _He was sure a goldfish wouldn’t grow as big as a koi, but we was just going to have to go with it on the spot._ Also. He was going to have to put his strange desire to see the beauty of Sakamoto's crying to the side.

          “It was gifted to me on my birthday by someone I-.... someone very special. Someone I like.” He elaborated, voice cracking.

 _Someone he liked, eh?_ A loud sob broke his thoughts. And he felt awful about what he’d been thinking. All these strange emotions of his could be shoved aside for later, it was pretty obvious this dude needed more help than he did.

         “I’m- I’m sorry.” Akira tried, faltering in any movements, watching the boy turn to him. Frozen for a moment, caught up in all the amazement he’d found in his features, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

         “I know the culprit.” His face turned to something vengeful. Tears still evident, fists at his side now.

        Akira quickly gained as much composure as he could in seconds. Trying hard not to focus on how powerful this dudes facial expressions were. Sending ice to his heart on the rather warm day with his hooded eyes, shadows casted down dramatically to match his glare.

        Shaking his head, and scoffing, a memory obviously popping in his head by the looks of his squinted eyes. Almost like he was envisioning it right next to Akira, he’s sure that he’d never been more confusingly attracted to someone in all his postpubertal years.

         Sakamoto’s own sharp gaze found its way onto Akira. Shaking in his shoes, he distantly wondered if the blond boy cloud see him shaking like a small dog under his stare. Eyes piercing a hot hole in his formerly frozen heart, “It’s some tubby tuxedo cat. He wanders around my neighborhood like he’s an obese stray.”

          _Oh thank god it wasn’t a person._

         “Begging for food like he needs any more of it.” He sneered, digging the toe of his sneakers into the grass.

          Akira’s face was pale despite his desperate attempts to keep his cool, “Ah- hah. Um. How do you know?”

         The eye contact he made with Akira about sent him to the ground. So full of passion and fury, if he could somehow get his phone out to take a photo- he might be able to send it to his gifted friend, Yusuke, to ask if he was as beautiful piece of art as he’d thought him to be.

         “There was black and white fur in my windowsill.” He finished, his thoughts consuming him, face not faltering as tears began to roll down his cheeks again.

          _Fuck fuck fuck._ He was such a fucking creep for actually getting something out of this. Fear turning into something wild within him, so afraid of the boy, and all the more intrigued.

       “Will you-“ He sniffled a bit between his words, breaking his hardness for a moment, “Will you tell me?”

        Going stiff, Akira’s breath got caught in his throat before he managed to choke out a strained, “Tell you what?”

       Stepping forward, (He didn’t remember standing in the first place? What the hell was going on!??) and knocking the wind Akira was so quickly trying to get back into his lungs, right back out of him. Sakamoto grabbed his hand, hopefully not noticing the way his eyes must’ve bulged out of his head at the contact. Going to most likely have to pick them up from the ground later on from popping out of his head. He was just seconds away from throwing himself in the pond to cool down the heat blossoming in his cheeks.

        Mouth snapped shut, and focus trained on the features so close to him now. The thought about taking a picture from earlier had suddenly come back to haunt him. Lips subconsciously splitting into a nervous smile as the boy held on delicately. Rather calloused fingers holding his own.

          His cracked grin didn’t seem to scare him off, thankfully. If he were to fall on the ground right then from lack of oxygen, sure, he probably would’ve picked up on Akira’s nervousness. Instead, hopefully looking straight into Akira’s eyes, “Will you tell me if you find the fatty?”

          Shaky, almost coming out in a whisper quieter than the breeze above the two, Akira nodded vigorously, “Oh yes. Yes of course, one hundred percent, Sakamoto. You can count on me for sure- I’ll catch the murderer for you and avenge your goldfish-“

           _This is why he had grown quieter during his school years. Always getting carried away with his hurried words._

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes into the agreement, and took his time with the confident, “Yes, yes I will.”

           The light squeeze to his palm had sent shivers through his whole body. And he needed to make a note somewhere to go home and slap himself silly for being so embarrassing during this whole encounter.

           World catching up to him, he finally came back from his visit to cloud nine. Blinking hard, and wondering where the hell Sakamoto had gone to in mere seconds, the one minute warning bell for lunch sounded, and he let out an awful inhuman screech as he scrambled to gather up his things.

           He didn’t even get to eat his bento.

           Why in the everloving hell was he like this?!?!?


	2. Chapter 2

          And now, there he sat. On the floor in his house, petting his own cat, and sighing in annoyance. Watching him scarf down food like he’s never eaten it before, Akira needed to ask Sojiro to stop giving him scraps. It fills up his belly too much, and it’s probably what’s been causing his sudden weight gain.

             The cat started to purr under his touch, and he grinned, watching his tail swish in the air, satisfied with Akira’s petting skills. Compared to his sisters, he knew Morgana preferred lighter, more careful touches. Remembering the other day, Futaba cradling him like a baby with her face to his stomach, the cries of annoyance filling the room as she tortured him.

               Something bumped into his head, and he groaned in displeasure at the devil he’d just spoken about. Glancing for a brief moment to catch Futaba, hands at her hips, studying Morgana like something about him was confusing.

               “Oh? He’s finally eating again?”

              Arching a brow, Akira looked up, hand stilling in his action, “What do you mean?”

               She too, made her way to the ground. Sinking down, pale slender hand reaching out and gently petting at the cat. Something different from her usual over the top love rampages.

                Her nails ghosted on his tail, “He came back home with some dead animal in his mouth the other day, so he really hasn’t eaten since then.”

                His dulled eyes suddenly came to life. Sending frantic looks between his sister and the cat in question, mind going a mile a minute.

 

                 _No way._

 

              “I’m thinking he was somewhere where water was, because he came back all wet and gross. I tried to chase him around the house with a towel, but I couldn’t catch him.”

                  _No fucking way._

 

She continued, “Yeah, now there’s some dead thing laying around the house. Heh, I hope he hid it in your room!”

 

                    _Morgana is the culprit._

                   If Futaba wasn’t there to stop him, he probably would’ve picked up the fat cat and shook him aggressively. The asshole put him in such an awful situation! How the hell is he going to tell the devastated boy, that _his_ cat murdered his beloved fish!? He'd never wanna speak to Akira again…

        He scared the shit out of him, drenched him in water, couldn’t have possibly been far more annoying… and now his fucking cat murdered his goldfish.

         What was he going to do? He couldn’t straight up tell him. It wouldn’t be smooth on both ends, and he didn’t want to really end some friendship that never even started by revealing that yes, Akira is still one gigantic asshat. He agreed to help him out, didn’t he? How in the hell was he going to do that?

          Grimacing at his beloved cat, he weighed his options. Wondering just how much Sojiro would care if he sacrificed up their pet for some boy he’d just met. A troubled one at that- according to the rumors around school. (Even if Akira didn’t believe them for a second, judging by the fragile kid he saw before him.)

           He could’ve guessed he had to protect Morgana, unfortunately. Cover for the asshole that somehow still fit through tiny cracks in windows and apparently terrorized the neighborhood…  poor Sakamoto.

          Poor… pretty-when-you-cry Sakamoto.

         _He really needed to get a grip on this weird-ass obsession of his-_

 

          Futaba kicked him, “You look constipated.”

 

           Sakamoto and his tears suddenly vanished from his daydreaming, and he was back to the sound of Morgana crunching away on his food.

          He couldn’t go one fucking second without 1. Embarrassing himself. 2. Getting harassed. Or 3. Getting lost in thought.

           Quickly grabbing her ankle in self defense, she shrieked and braced the doorframe behind her. Narrowed gaze full of aggravation, her pouty look being a cheap attempt for Akira to let go. Past experiences forcing him to tighten his grip, and hide his smug grin.

          But more importantly. He needed a second opinion. He needed advice on what the hell to do with this whole mess.

          “If someone you had a crush on gave you-“

           Futaba’s eyes lit up, and Akira immediately regretted his words, “Are ya talkin’ about yourself!? You got someone, you tool?”

 

           _Why was she the most difficult person to talk to!?!?_

 

            “No!” He shot back, groaning in anguish as he finally dropped his grip to her ankle. Crinkling up his nose as he watched Morgana inhale the dry food like it was oxygen.

            Gaining composure again, he tilted his head back, hair falling all around him as he looked up to his sister. Expectant expression a hint to continue on with whatever he wanted to share with her. The sibling bond growing ever so slightly each second her judgmental squint had grown.

           Thinking back to the tear-soaked face, he flushed, and then subsequently shoved it far out of his mind to focus on the task at hand. No thinking about cute boys on the job, he was going to have to save that for later, “If someone you had a crush on, gave you a gift, and then someone else broke it, what would you do? How would you feel?”

          Futaba pursed her lips, hands on her hips like the, “I’d kick their teeth in,” took any thought at all to say.

          Grimacing, Akira subconsciously touched his mouth. Staring off into space, and wondering how much Takemi would charge for a new set of teeth. But, jeez, did he _really_ deserve that? It wasn’t his fault, it was his cat!

            Standing up straight, she shrugged, looking off down the hallway, back righted, “Well, I mean, ya gotta know the story before you can really judge, dummy. So it’s a rounded answer. Don’t go smashin’ people in the face because of me, Sojiro’d be _pissed.”_

“Speaking of, he’ll be home soon.” She added, reaching out to quickly rustle his hair. Words a distraction away from her actions, he didn’t even bother to gripe at her. Hearing the snicker and patter of her feet down the hall.

          Poor Morgana looked at him, eyes trained, almost knowing. Could he possibly know? How much of a trouble he was?

          What would Sakamoto do if he found out it was his cat? Would he take revenge? Toss him into the river? Never speak to Akira again, and kick his teeth in like his sister had suggested?

            He wouldn’t possibly go that far for a dead goldfish, eh? They were everywhere, pet stores sold them for cheap, and they didn’t really have that long of a life.

              _“Someone very special. Someone I like,”_ his cold statement sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it. The misery in his face, capable of turning the world around him to a frozen wasteland with just sigh.

          If it was a person that important, he guessed he would’ve had an emotional attachment. Sure, it wasn’t a cat or dog, and it wasn’t guaranteed a long life, but it was still his pet. He obviously cared deeply for it, and now Akira had to deal with it all.

          Maybe he could divert his attention, get Sakamoto to trust him, confide in him more than the little session they had by the pond. Befriend him, and try and help make him a bit more happy. So aware of all the drama around him, and the past track team incidents, from what he saw, the dude was lacking in the friend department. Maybe a step away from his fish, was a bit of kindness?

          It would work out perfectly. He still had the soaked shirt, all he had to do was wash it and give it back. Perhaps start their friendship right then and there with a pre-apology, that led to the big apology.

           Maybe he would practice in the mirror a bit, slightly nudging Morgana in the side with his foot as he stood. The yowl he heard was short, for the animal was already back on his food before Akira had even made it to the stairs.

            The display of himself that he stared at, however, had some, very, _very_ sympathetic eyes, lip jutted out. His appearance reflected back to him showed someone deeply sorry. Or, so he hoped. Looking more like a kicked puppy than anything.

           “Hey here’s your shirt back,” he tried, offering up the still damp one he hadn’t washed yet to the mirror (laziness covered up by the excuse of continuity.) “I um… I also wanted to let you know.”

            And if he weren’t already freaked out enough, the image of Sakamoto's reaction had flashed through his mind. Staring back at himself, arms outstretched with a bundled up shirt, apathetic expression he swore looked like a decent apologetic one moments before.

             The brown eyes before him turned into disgust at Akira, like he was a monster. His mind playing a mean joke on him as the imaginary boy looked absolutely revolted at the shitty attempt to sooth what had happened.

           As if it was real, Akira reached out, “No, no. Please listen! It was my cat, Morgana- and-“

           Sakamoto’s judgmental stare was a figment of his fucky imagination. Cold and personally made to prick at Akira’s fragile heart with hot needles.

            “You see, my cat. He’s an asshole-“

            He must’ve been hallucinating- he had to be. The mirror was displaying his frantic tries at apologizing, the imaginary guy shaking his head in dissatisfaction.

           _Surely he wasn’t like this in real life, Akira was simply overreacting and projecting onto something that literally wasn’t even there._

“My cat killed your fish I’m sorry!”

           The blond boy turned away any more attempts to fix it all, and dissolved into the mirror, showing Akira the reflection of someone completely lost. His hair all frizzy from the anxiety, pale and sweaty. Sakamoto would _definitely_ find it strange and suspicious.

 

        …As would any sane person.

 

        He didn’t quite know how he’d act. He wasn’t close with the guy, he’d never seen him around, and only heard the rumors. Different classes, different lives. If fate had crossed them over a dead fish, fate sure was an asshole.

         Fate set the sun in his eyes the next day, wandering into school with dread seeping out of his pores. Clutching the now cleaned shirt in his hands with caution not to wrinkle, the second year building was bustling with Saturday buzz. Everyone already excited for the weekend, before classes had even begun.

         Feet heavy, arms aching with the weight of the fabric, he moved through the crowds of his peers. The shirt didn’t weigh much, no, but the consequence that came with it bore down something fierce.

         He wasn’t hard to find at all. The bright blond of his hair catching in the rising sun, a window seat situated towards the trees. Sakamoto sat alone. Waiting for school to start like a diligent student, striking some sadness within Akira with the fact he was isolated from everyone else.

         It might’ve taken a few moments, and a couple of hateful glares for him to realize it wasn’t by choice. Everyone was avoiding him, a few whispers speckled with disgust found his ears as he made the sudden ominous trek to his desk.

           Maybe he could befriend him. _Maybe._ Try and help him get out of the funk this school presented him. Show him not everyone was a judgemental asshole, that he really didn’t mind the rumors anyway.

         “Aye, Sakamoto!” He called out, cheery for it being so early. Words seeming to stop a few people as they looked over, small bits of shock in their brows.

         He looked up, face empty, void of any indication on how he felt about Akira’s presence.

         Giving off an innocent, friendly smile, he gave the first apology, “Sorry about the shirt, I washed it and everything,” his mirror session from the night before projected itself perfectly as he held it out for him, “I hope I didn’t cause you any troubles, I don’t want you getting sick because of me.”

         “T’s fine,” he reached out, hands gentle in retrieving the shirt, “Thank you.”

           Carrying on, Akira settled himself, standing his own ground in preparation for the big apology. Chest growing a bit tight in the unfair anticipation.

           “So about yesterday-“

          “Kurusu.” He interrupted.

            _How in the hell did he know his name?_ He froze completely, unnecessarily scared out of his mind. _Can’t he just apologize and get it out of the way!?!_

Biting down on his bottom lip for a moment, he hesitated once more with Akira, “Do you think I have a right for revenge?”

           Okay. He thawed. But- _what the heck is that supposed to mean?_

“Should I get back at the cat?” He asked, genuinely seeking an answer.

             _Oh shit,_ “Uh,” he let out, cringing at himself, “Um.”

            Sakamoto glared at him, something unintentional, as he quickly shrunk back in on himself. Pressing his lips together now, and contemplating his actions all in one go. Forcing Akira to feel even more bad that he had to walk on eggshells to even speak to another person.

       He was going to tell him! He was obviously still angry over it, so now how would he confess it was his own cat who did the unthinkable?

_Avoiding eye contact was extremely wise at this point in the game._

        “Have you seen it? Seen the tubby thing since yesterday?” He asked another question, another one too weighted for an immediate answer.

 

           He had to do it.

 

           Right now was his prime opportunity, to just blurt it out and get it over with.

           Taking a deep breath, he looked to Sakamoto, finally. Catching the curiosity within his eyes.

 

             “So, about that…”

 

             Sakamoto was waiting.

              He was ready.

 

             “You see-“

 

             “AKIRA!”

 

             Both of the boys froze then. Fear striking them both upside the head, and forcing them to look at the owner of the voice.

           Slowly turning around, he silently wished for death. The loud and entirely obnoxious man standing behind him, headphones blasting music enough for his usual booming voice, to become even louder. Beam present, as he shoved half of what he was holding into Akira’s arms.

             _Of course he’d ignored Akira’s discomfort in the, “oof” he gave off at the sudden weight._

              “Mr.Hanam-“

              He was cut off again by a slap to his back, one meant to be light. And one that did _not_ come off as light.

               _If he weren’t a family friend, he would’ve decked him in the face long ago._

“Sorry man!” He chuckled, Akira now looking down at the stacks of papers in his hands, “I just needed some help, and I saw you here, heh! What a coincidence!”

             “Yeah…” Akira stifled a laugh, looking to the ceiling, and wondering how in the hell this guy got a job at a high school when his personality rivaled the first years.

          Stepping backwards, he motioned with his head, “Let’s take these to the storage room, kay?”

           He sighed heavily, starting his trudge after the upbeat dude. Still hearing his music even after he’d walked away.

         “Kurusu-“

          _Oh shit, Sakamoto._

“Oh, geez,” he adjusted the stack in his arms, trying not to feel absolutely awful about the sad look in his face, “I’m real sorry, Sakamoto. I’ll have to tell you next time.”

         With that, he reluctantly followed behind the buffoon of a teacher. Making a mental note to shoot the older man’s boyfriend a message about how much of a hassle he truly was. Satisfaction already blooming from him at the oncoming shitstorm his cousin Yu would deal to him.

          (Yu, may not have technically been his cousin, but a marriage binded the ability to have enough trust to yell at his significant other on behalf of Akira.)

           The day proceeded as normal.

            His friend, Ann, teased him about how frazzled he looked. Going on to talk to him until the bell rung about something he’d never remember. The, “you’ll never believe it,”’s becoming more and more believable as time went on.

           He’d then get called out on the only question he wasn’t sure about, and sweat all the way through answering it in front of the class. Getting the answer right, and earning a snicker from the girl in front of him. Scowling until the teachers switched.

           Some days, he’d have to help out with English to the kids around him when work time came about. But usually, he zoomed through all his homework, and zoned out for the rest of the day. Lunch just a block of time for him to fiddle with his phone.

       He thought he’d just been able to ride his bike home after all of it. Go and take a nap, try not to pester Futaba too much, and help with dinner. Calculate a way to talk to Sakamoto the next day somewhere in between.

       He’d also thought he wouldn’t have run straight into the blond boy of his thoughts. Done with cleaning up the classroom, it being his only day to do it for a while. It was a bit startling to see him at school for so long after it had ended.

        “I don’t want to keep something that isn’t mine,” he said, handing over the jacket Akira completely forgot about.

         Blinking hard for a moment and registering the situation, he laughed, “You waited for me after school for this?”

          Scoffing, he stepped back a little, regret coursing through Akira as the other furrowed his brow. Frown a mix of frustration as he became defensive yet again.

          “Ya freakin’ returned something to me and then left! Wha- what the heck?”

            _God, he must despise Akira at this point._

Grimacing, he scratched the back of his head, “Oh… right. I apologize.”

           Starting to walk away. Sakamoto halted in front of Akira, and the boy readied himself for the shit storm of blurting out what he’d been keeping in all this time. Watching intently as the blond showed confusion.

           “That all you do? Apologize?” For a moment, you could see the twist of realization of his harshness on his features, “Ah…”

             Sticking his hands deep in his pockets, he gestured with his head, “You walk this way?”

            “Yeah, I live close to that convenience store. The one up by the apartments?” He began to shuffle, moving bit by bit forward in order to get both them, and the conversation moving.

             Following behind Akira, Sakamoto pursed his lips. Feet swaying as he walked, kicking the pebbles beneath them as they moved along. Nice weather, it all accompanied the growing fear of getting it out there.

        To begin finally telling him that his cat was the culprit. Stop hesitating, and move on with their lives.

         “ _I’d kick their teeth in,”_

His sisters words flashed through his mind, and he about shit himself. Looking at the foul mouthed classmate before him, and considering the white high tops he wore. Capable of causing multiple dental visits, and so much more.

         God, he was terrified.

         “I live in them apartments. Always have. Did ya just move here or somethin’?” He asked, hands clasped tightly behind his back as he leaned forward to look into Akira’s face. Movements so awkward in his newfound position.

            As touchy as a subject it could’ve been, he was fine in explaining it. It’s not like he absolutely hated everything about his story up to this point. He had gotten a great life out of it all.

           Smiling at the memories, he shook his head, “It’s been about three years. I was adopted by a family friend, got a great sister along the way too. How about you? Any siblings?”

       _My god they were actually talking. Carrying on a normal conversation and getting to know each other!_

          Quickly dismissing it, he looked forward, “Nah. Just me and my mom.”

          As they walked down the sidewalk. Silence between the occasional car that zoomed by, distant sounds of children playing in the streets had occupied the empty conversation. The spokes of Akira’s bike squeaking as he pushed it beside him.

         It was warm like the day before, sunny and breezy. Perfect weather to sweat to death in, the anxiety that weighed him down becoming all the more difficult in the humidity.

        If he stopped dwelling on it so much, maybe it would just… go away? Sakamoto would forget the whole thing, discard the memories he had with the fish and maybe get a dog or something.

        Akira would help him, of course. Receiving benefits in the friendship form as he’d assist in the strange grieving process. Help him get over it with all the kindness he possessed.

         Sakamoto might’ve had to grieve the loss of a practical stranger too, in the next moments. Feeling his soul leave his body.

         Letting out a squeal, a white tabby cat popped from the bushes to their side, Akira’s heart coming through his throat. The little meow of question it gave off as they passed helping to calm him down a bit more. Sakamoto clicking his tongue at the feline.

         _For a moment, he thought it was Morgana._

Curiosity killed the metaphorical cat. And possibly, the real one, as Akira let his big question fall from his mouth. Fearful to ask anything that might give away his involvement.

         “Hey, Sakamoto,” he tried, avoiding the glance over, “If you were to… uh… find that cat. What would you do with it?”

         It didn’t even take him a moment to come up with his answer.

         He shrugged like his words had no impact, “Make one of them cool shamisen instruments, probably.”

           _Oh my god he was going to skin Mona alive._

Sending off a wavering smile, he hoped his nervous laugh wasn’t too obvious. Because, holy fuck he couldn’t say anything, how could he?

          He might’ve blurred out something like, “ _Morgana wouldn’t look good as a drum,”_ if he decided to speak in any moment after that. Most likely causing the demise of his beloved family pet all in one go…

         Futaba would obliterate him.

         And… Ryuji would obliterate his cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fu fu fu I love writing Akira as frantic on the inside. Like, cmon. He can't actually be composed all the time, right?
> 
> Blease leave some comments! I love em lots! (ﾉ´ з `)ノ


	3. Chapter 3

         A fantastic way to go about things, Akira kept quiet for several days. Ignoring the problem, and feeding his brat cat enough to butter him up into staying indoors and out of neighbors fish tanks.

        He’d only managed to converse with Sakamoto before school. Leaving his wonder on just how fast he went to and from his house if Akira had never seemed to meet up with him on the way. Always catching him (and the copious amounts of dirty looks,) at his desk, the annoyance slowly disappearing as the new week wore on.

         No goldfish or cat to be heard of, Akira literally chatted it up about anything and everything. Television, parents, the weather. He’d hoped to at least strike up something good enough to set a decent mood for the blond throughout the day. One topic he’d noticed striking a steady spark, once Akira mentioned a manga he was reading, Sakamoto took immediate interest.

          He had actually, in fact, not touched a manga in years.

         Digging himself just a little deeper into the shit pile that was his life at this point. He read the plot to some manga after telling Sakamoto, _he simply forgot the title of it._ Buying himself a little more time to calculate how many times he could fuck up in one straight week.

          From the free ones he’d found online after their half-sided bullshit conversation… Akira saw the appeal. The action ones especially, Sakamoto recommended one about these teens with masks, switching between the real world, and another. Fighting the injustices of Tokyo together…

             _How unrealistic, right?_

His sister probably knew of it, she adored crap like that.

           The last time he could step foot in, he knew Futaba had an abundance of manga just simply lying around her constantly dirty room, so… When she was gone to her fancy art school one day, he snuck in. Realizing with all the trash around, a silent approach was impossible to achieve. Stepping immediately on a can and falling into a pile of blankets.

          Sighing, he had to stop and think for a moment. (Like he hadn’t ever done that enough?) Staring straight up at her ceiling, and wondering just how far he’d go for the practical stranger. A boy who had broken much more than his leg, it felt like a personal project to cure him.

           Head rolling to the side, he caught an intimidating stare of a buff man. Sparking his interest, and seeing the, “manga volume 1,” on the side. Relief washed over him, snatching it from his hiding spot between two empty gum packages, and a stray sock. Expecting a garbage monster to reach back out and suck him under Futaba’s bed.

           Fortunately, there was no death involved in retrieving the key to a good friendship with Sakamoto. Maybe, if he’d left school early the next day, he could catch up with him.

             Maybe.

             Maybe’s didn’t quite work out in his favor, though, now did they?

             He was zooming down the sidewalk on his bike, the usual hill propelling him to go even faster. The best part of his ride home, and the worst part of his trek to school. The wind in his hair felt wonderful, backpack in the front basket, manga ready to be shown.

             From what Akira had remembered, Sakamoto said he lived in the apartments by the convenience store. His usual route to the right would have to be altered to the left today. Which, was just a bit farther. The end of the hill, a corner, and boom, apartments.

             The end of the hill, a corner, and boom apartments.

               The end of the hill, a corner, his cat-

 

             _Oh fuck Morgana-_

 

Why the hell was he out there! Now! Of all times, he decided to mosey out of the house and cause Akira more pain than necessary. Just, chilling by the street sign on the corner, like the asshole he was.

             Akira couldn’t think in this moment. Which was a new thing for him, since all he ever did lately was _over-_ think things. Seeing the blob of fur getting closer… and closer.

             Sakamoto wouldn’t even get a chance to murder him, because if Akira got to him first, they’d have a new bathroom rug by the end of the day. Although being a bit away, he could feel the smug grin of his own cat, _his fur-baby,_ flaunting his escape with the flick of his tail. Head held high.

           Ignore it. That’s all he had to do, right? It seemed to have worked so far.

           The end of the hill, finally- the corner, his cat, and- oh my god.

 

            Morgana moved right into his path.

 

           Akira was going top speed.

          Screeching about the last three seconds of his ride, the wind in his hair didn’t seem all that great in this moment. Paleing as his wheels turned faster and faster, his feet not making it to the breaks, like his mind shut off any signal to do so.

            Like he was on the downhill part of the huge roller coaster at destiny land for the first time. His consistent shriek was a siren, knowing how awful the noise must’ve been to the ears.

         The end of the hill, a corner, and boom.

 

          _Pavement_.

 

        He wished he would’ve blacked out to spare him the immediate misery after impact. Feeling the scrapes all over his body, half of him wanted to just continue to lay there and bleed out through the abrasions on his palms.

          Because he was dumb. Because- _of course-_ he used his hands to brace himself, and they slid across the cement just as much as his knees did.

          Luckily, his bookback cushioned his face, pressed firmly against the canvas in hopes he could suffocate himself. Skin burning all over, sounds of the pedals on his bike whirling around after such momentum, had stopped.

           The distant noises of the neighborhood, usual children shouting, dogs barking, sounded so peaceful. But, Akira couldn’t will himself to even lift his head up, so, picking up on the sounds became more annoying than anything. Sighing deeply, and wondering just when he’d muster enough courage to see the damage that was done.

            The damage his cat caused-

             _Oh god- Morgana-_

Sitting up frantically, and giving himself all sorts of handicaps, he looked around for the fatass. Blind from the sudden sun, dizzy from moving too quickly, searing pain in his knees and hands. It truly took agonizingly long to have everything within, and around him to calm down enough for Akira to catch up.

            For God’s sake, he was on a never ending spiral of doom. Like a slinky on bottomless stairs, he had colossally fucked up about 15 steps in, lost rhythm, and started tumbling down them at great speeds.

            Going to run a hand through his mangled hair, he halted in horror.

            Letting his eyes settle on the bloody mess of his palms, a huff of pent up air escaped his mouth before he snapped his lips tightly together. Desperate to prevent any cries of complete and utterly horrid agony.

             Skin red, and torn, he couldn’t take his eyes off the little flaps of the first layers of his skin that made themselves known through all the color. Streaks of scarlet running all the way to his wrist.

              Slowly, shakily, but surely, he shifted his hand away from his stuck on gaze. Setting it gently beside himself, before letting his lower half come into focus.

             Oh my god.

              Everyone in the neighborhood better shut their windows as soon as fucking possible because he was going to scream. _He was going to scream, it was going to be deafening, and it wouldn’t possibly take away any of the aching and suffering._

His knees were revoltingly covered in an even deeper shade of red. Still actively bleeding, still, very much so, burning like hell. Just looking at them making it all so, _so_ much more worse.

         Here it comes- the wail of the century-

        “Oh, wow. Are you alright?”

         _Okay- nevermind._

        Akira unstuck. Looking up from his spot on the ground, to a man. A man holding his awful animal in his hands, concern plastered all over his features.

            _He was actually dying._

“Uh.”

            _Pershing slowly. Dwindling away like the ozone layer._

“Ah. Yeah.”

         Setting down Morgana gently, he kneeled beside Akira. Caution in his advances, he studied his knee like he knew what he was doing. Not touching, or overbearing in his silent actions.

          “I heard a loud noise outside the fence,” he gestured before coming up to his feet. Eyes wandering towards the bicycle, Akira finally taking note that _thankfully_ it hadn’t broke, “Do you think you’re okay to stand?”

     Oof. Standing sounded hard.

     Well, _okay,_ not as hard when you have someone to help you up. The skin around a particular scrape flaming up as his knees bent, the hiss of pain that threatened to come out, had never made it up the surface. Settling on sucking in his lips, as if someone put lemon juice right on his tongue, to mask any sort of misery he’d felt in that moment.

      The stare he came back to, was startling. Too focused on his injuries to notice the eyes stuck on him, the kind stranger furrowing his brows.

     Catching himself coughing to escape the awkwardness, he shuffled back a bit, “Er…”

     Lids of his eyes raising in realization of his factions, he grimaced and laughed, “Oh my, I’m sorry. It’s just-“

     “Did the cat go this way?” A female voice added on to their very stale conversation. Akira peering over the man’s shoulder to find the source.

      A lovely woman in a sundress opened the gate to the fence Akira could assume the helpful stranger had come from. Light steps sending their own breeze towards the two, the stranger in front of him turned around to her.

        “Oh! Hello!” She grinned, waving shortly, before dropping her hands, and cocking her head to the side, “Those cuts look a bit rough, are you alright?”

         _I mean, the blood oozing between the pebbles in his kneecaps seemed self explanatory enough..._

          Morgana nudged his way into the situation again, nuzzling Akira’s ankle as the couple both studied him. The cat letting out a curt meow before Akira had caved, and lifted him up.

           The man smiled, “You’re wearing the same uniform as our Ryuji.”

             He didn’t know anyone named Ryuji. Or, so he had thought. Really, he didn’t know much of anyone besides his small circle of friends. School merely being a pastime filled with a bunch of rather awful kids, it wasn’t surprising he didn’t make more acquaintances… knowing the teachers better than any of his peers.

          “Nevermind that, would you like to come to our place? We could treat those nasty cuts.” The woman suggested, stepping in front of the man, and pointing at the bloody mess of his knees.

         Shaking his head, and trying to spit out the hair Morgana had gotten into his mouth all at once, he adjusted the unruly animal in his arms to wave the offer away, “No, no! I think I’m okay. I don’t live far!”

         Sighing and slowly moving his knees as a test, he pursed his lips, “And anyway, this is my cat. I should apologize for the trouble he’s caused you!”

          The man nodded, and the woman shook her head. Both looking deadpan at each other, and sending Akira’s worries of persistence on a short vacation in favor of their disagreement.

          They were cute together.

        She was just a tad shorter than him, and judging by the matching bands to their fingers, marriage has bound his suspicions.

        What was not cute, was having the actual shit scared out of you.

      His heart dropped. And the pain from his injuries shot up to his head.

 

     “So, it was your cat?”

 

      _Oh dear god._

 

      He didn’t wanna turn around. Fuck- _he couldn’t._ The voice of an angel brought death upon him, and Mona mewled in his arms.

      His feet moved without him.

       Sakamoto stood. No emotions present, a blank stare of nothingness that, _somehow_ still read off as disappointment.

         “Oi! Ryuji!” The man smiled.

         _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

 _“_ Why don’t you invite your pal inside? Let us fix him up, and make him some tea?”

           **_FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than the others, but the parts I would've added here seemed well off into a separate chapter... so ha ha! I lied, there will probably be two more chapters instead of one! ╮(︶︿︶)╭


	4. Chapter 4

      How should he start… well, how on earth _could_ he start such a story?

    “I’m sorry.”

     Sakamoto stood with question in his brow, staring down at Akira as they both sat on the patio, “Sorry for what, exactly?”

       A bit taken back, Akira looked up with disbelief, “About your goldfish. My dumb cat is most likely the one who ate it.”

       Morgana purred endlessly in his lap, and he ran a now bandaged hand over his back. Smoothing out his fur and picking the tiny bits of leaf that somehow ended up woven in, “You don’t know how many times I tried to tell you, Sakamoto.”

        “And, god,” he continued. Almost out of breath from saying so little. The words caked with fear felt exhausting, and all the more relieving to get out into the world, “This isn’t anything that can be solved with apologizing, but-“

         It came out again, more meaningful this time, “I’m so, so sorry.”

        The blond boy stumbled a bit. Furrowing his brow even more as his fierce eyes bore down on Akira.

        When he was practically shoved in to the Sakamoto home, something washed over him. Cuts not mattering as his feet met the carpet, and hands tugged him along to the bathroom. Everything felt so surreal.

          Photos lined the wall, all Ryuji, most all with a wide beam Akira had yet to see in person. A woman in just a few of the pictures, Akira had suddenly felt homesick.

          Like, _home,_ homesick. Back with his mom and dad, back with his nice painted room he begged for, and back where his world wasn’t all messed up like it was.

           He loved Futaba, and Sojiro… but it couldn’t possibly ever feel as complete. This house itself, showing something desperately wanted. The love radiating from the walls, and suffocating him as he walked along. Not fancy by any means, and a bit dingy, it really hadn’t mattered.

          It was Sakamoto to took him into the nicely decorated bathroom. Obvious eyes begging for him not to comment on the apparent duck theme going on as the man went to retrieve the antiseptic and gauze.

         “Now or never,” seemed to be the phrase running circles in his mind. Prepared for the confession the whole time he sat in the blond’s care, unnecessarily good at wrapping up his many wounds.

          They bandaged him up, and now he sat awkwardly, cat of the week lounging in his lap. Shadow above him, a product from someone with too many emotions to comprehend.

         Sakamoto looked more miserable than usual, scowl practically shouting at him from here. Crossed arms, and shaky legs, something was on his mind, and Akira was genuinely terrified to press.

        The boy sighed, something on his mind. And, it put immense pressure upon Akira to just spit it out.

         He’d done enough as of late, and really did not plan to end up where he was. Pain all over not coming close to the anxiety within him about telling the truth about the fish. It would piss him off more than anything he’d done in the past week.

         All he had to do, was man up and say it. Get it over with, and move on-

 

          “I- I knew.”

 

          Akira didn’t quite get that.

         What did he mean, exactly? Knew about what? It couldn’t be possible, right?

         Morgana started to purr, and he wondered distantly if cats could read minds. That on the back burner in favor or processing the situation that Sakamoto potentially _knew_ his cat had been the culprit the whole time.

        It wasn’t like he was reaching- the look on the blond’s face told it all!

          _He knew?_

It all seemed a bit too much at the moment. The wide eyed look in his face probably that of some deranged serial killer, chest tightening upon the realization.

          _What did he know- no no it couldn’t be_

_Oh- oh no._

This whole time, Akira had made a fool out of himself in trying to prevent the boy from knowing. Putting his cat on house-arrest… jumping around topics? He was surprised he hadn’t just blurted it out at one of these times.

“I’ve seen you with him in the basket of your bike. I thought it was funny, and weird, so it kind of stuck with me.” Sakamoto continued, unaware that the other was completely coming undone beside him.

         This was not supposed to be how it ended! Akira should be dead- or slowly dying, watching the guy murder his pet in front of him, light within dwindling every second that ticked on! Where was the anger? Where was the violence he had expected all this time?

        Sakamoto bit his bottom lip, and shifted his weight into the next sentence, “I knew you’d been tryin’ to tell me about it all this time. I just… ignored it.”

         Finally, Akira took the breath of a lifetime, one held inside since the moment he popped out of that bush. _He wasn’t dead._ He was okay, and so was Morgana, the sun was shining and-

        “I was taking my anger and grief out on you, what an awful person I am, huh?”

          _What?_ Wait, uh no. What?

         He wasn’t a horrible person, he was an understandable kid just like him. Someone who had a few rough bumps and, minus the broken leg, they were similar, so Akira couldn’t want to express that more to him. Make his goal a reality and convince the blond he was great.

         “I mean, everything about the death of my fish stacked on top of you stalking me, and throwing water at me, you kinda _really_ pissed me off.”

         Yeah okay, he had a point for the billionth time. But, Akira kind of asked for it all huh? Sakamoto didn’t seem half bad, and he could almost guarantee that he was a great person. Just, someone stuck behind a rather downcast expression.

          Words stuck to the roof of his mouth, Morgana flicked his tail aggressively into his stomach, sort of as a sign to get it going. Now noticing the solemn look to his face, upon the other realization that he’d taken a seat next to Akira.

         Staring off into the yard, eyes dreary, elbows to his knees, he sighed. A particularly pleasant breeze sorting out all that was wrong with Akira in one single blow.

         “Hey,” he tried, lightly and gently, like the time he coaxed Morgana out of the Big Bang Burger dumpster. An approach crafted carefully enough to soften the hard exterior of both boys, “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Sakamoto.”

          From the look to his face, he was processing the words Akira had spoken. Slowly, as if they were some cryptic joke, and he had to make sure he convinced him of how serious he was.

          Laughing a bit thinking about it all, Akira sat back, lightly, protecting his bandaged hands, “God, the whole goldfish shit was all my fault too. It’s reasonable that you’d be upset, and want revenge.”

          Finally, after all this time, he was able to fully look him in the face. Catching a ray of sunshine in the act, the beautiful brown coloring of his eyes distracted him for a moment. A brief second of amazement, as he was caught in the amber of his eyes like a prehistoric mosquito.

          Smiling, warmly, Akira tilted his head, “You haven’t been taking anything out on me.”

          Now it was Sakamoto’s turn to spout confusion, lips slightly parted, like they were raring to protest. Nothing came about, and he stayed put. A sort of bafflement in his expression, childlike in all the wonder he held in his eyebrows.

        “You even did most of the bandaging for me today. After I was so screwy about telling you.”

         “So please,” he tried, “Don't be so hurt over this all.”

          They were having a moment holy shit. Akira didn’t even stutter _once,_ practically a pro after all this time. Watching the gears turn endlessly in Sakamoto’s head as he stared, mouth wide open at Akira. All he could manage back, was a friendly grin.

       “Ryuji.”

        Oh yeah, that’s right. That dude that helped him up was here as well. Standing behind them and interrupting the sentimental aura between the two with a tray of tea.

        “How’s your friends injuries?” He questioned, setting the tray down and crouching to their level.

       Akira dazzled a smile, holding up his unsightly bandaged hand for a thumbs up, “Much better now, thank you.”

      Nodding with glee, he nudged Sakamoto, “Ryuji here never brings friends over, he’s so antisocial! That’s why I wanted to sit and chat with ya both for a bit!”

       _Judging by the miserable look on the blond’s face, he didn’t quite appreciate that statement._

“He’s not really a friend…” He mumbled in response.

 

     Okay, _ouch._

 

Who was this guy, anyway? He didn’t look like Sakamoto, nor did he seem to be a father figure. Overbearing enough to seem like he was desperate to appeal to the younger audience.

    “Always the type to say crude things like that!” He laughed, nudging annoyance into the boy again, Akira grimacing at the action.

     Sakamoto- well- _Ryuji_ … honorifics were confusing.

     He’s never been one to really go against someone’s wishes, and since he was unaware of the preferences, he’d have to stick to Sakamoto, he guessed. Which was a shame, Ryuji sounded much better, and really did match the face it belonged to.

      Topic of his thoughts coming to light, Sakamoto spoke blandly, “It’s gettin’ pretty late, you should take your fiancée and go home. She seems a bit tired, too.”

        Oh wow this guy was blunt. Obviously displeasure in his language, looking to his lap instead of making eye contact. Akira could tell what a pissy mood the guy was in, it was practically radiating off his stern gaze.

      The man nodded, obviously not catching the drift, “Oh shoot you’re right, it’s my turn to cook tonight too.”

     The tray of tea he’d brought wobbled upon the sudden standing, Akira following Sakamoto’s eyes up to the man’s face. A wide beam greeting them back… Akira wondered how someone could smile as nicely as he did.

     “You two seem…” _he couldn’t think,_ “Um, close?”

     Sakamoto shot him a glare, and he took that as a sign to keep going, “I’m so jealous of your brother, all my sister does is harass me.” He joked, half heartedly, flashing back to a few questionable moments of siblinghood between him and Futaba.

     “Is that how it looks?” The blond boy laughed, one full of disbelief, and bitterness, “He’s not my brother, Kurusu.”

      _Okay, that was one way to figure it out, huh?_ Then? Who was this guy, and why was he in Sakamoto’s home?

     “He’s my babysitter. Or- eh- _was-_ I’m too old for one now, but he stuck around.” Puffing out his cheeks with a sigh, Sakamoto looked at Akira with expectancy, “He's the one who gave me that goldfish.”

 

      Eh?

 

       _Oh wait. Oh shit._

 

Oh shit oh shit. Sakamoto had a crush on his babysitter. Holy shit Sakamoto actually liked guys?? _Holy shit holy shit._

Although, freaking out on the inside, he watched as the other waited for a reaction. Something he looked for in staring at Akira. Like the boy would jump up, and call him disgusting or something, what little faith he had in his life was presented by his expression.

         But, he’d said fiancé, correct? The babysitter was set to be married, and from what he’d heard, and saw. So, judging by his mannerisms this whole time, it was obviously hurting him horribly. Akira had never had a lick of romantic feelings for anyone around him until he saw the tears glistening on the boys face those couple of days ago. So, it was difficult for him to comprehend and understand such an attachment.

        “Disgusting, right?” Sakamoto forced a grin, one full of pain and sorrow, “My deadbeat, abusive father left me and my ma. And she had to start working excessively.”

      Akira’s throat began to go dry at the harshness in his voice. Like he was genuinely upset with himself… it looked like he wasn’t the only one with shitty parents around here. But, still, the photos inside had struck him again, and he hated to say he was a little jealous of the relationship Sakamoto held with his mother.

      Like a fond memory flashed through his mind, he bowed his head. The sun above them now casting shadows, Akira had to wonder how long he’d truly been here. Distracted again by the way the light touched the peachy tones of the blond. Trying _so_ hard to not focus on him at such a dire time, knowing he needed to pin all his attention on the story, not his amazing face.

    Or his amazing eyes that glowed in the sun, clouds not bothering to take away from their wonder… or his lean- yet- muscular body… would he be good at hugs?

    He hoped that the other hadn’t noticed his off track thoughts. Because he had to pinch himself quickly to come back from his frequent gushing.

     This was more important, and he had to realize that before he’d done something even more stupid than he’d ever done.

    “She hired him, I remember her introducing him- Teruo. And, jeez, little ten year old me fell in love immediately.” A shaky laugh twisted his face into something heartbreaking. Brows pinched together, trying to make himself small as he curled in on himself unintentionally, “The girl came in the picture a while ago.”

        A million things popped into his head, and picked up in the wind. Carrying any logic he held away with the oncoming summer breeze.

       This was something important to him, sacred, and obviously meant to never be said out loud. Now, Akira had let it come in contact with his ears, and he felt awful about it. He must’ve counted towards something though, right? To speak of such personal matters to him like they’d known each other for ages?

      Before he knew it, the choices that were rational to him, had gone away. And he was left to his own- rather on the spot mind.

      Hand reaching out without his consent.

     He couldn’t possibly take it back now. It was too close to his face, it was on route, and he had no time to cancel the flight.

     Laying gently on his cheek, brain sending error codes, and virus warnings, he ignored it. Completely stuck now, Akira tried his best at soothing, “You’re shaking.”

    Sakamoto scoffed under his touch, but didn’t hesitate, or pull away. Leaning in a small bit, “Shut it.”

     “This is something new to you, huh?”

     Scrunching up his face, it felt funny beneath Akira’s fingers, “Shaddup, dude.”

       _One more_ … “I aim to say you’re the type to love someone so much it pained you.”

       “I’m seriously gonna punch you.”

      Sakamoto sighed, and looked up, finally making the eye contact Akira had wanted so desperately, but certainly wasn’t prepared for. The look on his face screaming sentimental, Akira might’ve died right then and there.

     Biting down on his top lip again in thinking, Sakamoto shifted a bit, obviously brought down by his thinking, “Well, now you know I like dudes. What’ll ya do if I fall for you?”

    Oh Jesus Christ.

      Guess dying was on the menu today because holy fuckkkk. His heart had just stopped beating in his chest, and he’d felt for a moment, that someone had just come by and swiped all his bones from his body. He’d passed away.

    The limp mass of skin sitting there on the porch couldn’t get anything out into the air. Everything stopping as the other waited for a response.

      His hand was suddenly pushed away.

     “I’m just kiddin’...” he laughed, one that sounded entirely fake and forced, “Why are ya so red, ya look like a tomato.”

 

       _Hahahahha. Yeah._

 

      _Yeah._ Sure. _Sure this was a normal thing he could totally easily build himself back up on._ Hand hovering in mid air now, eyes wide at the sudden change of mind. Sakamoto looked conflicted, and Akira wondered if his confusion read well on his face.

      He took his turn now, dropping his hand, and letting his lips part for the tiniest of smiles, “It’s kinda like you’ve let go instead of seeking revenge.”

     _Bingo._

Sakamoto took a second to register what those powerful words truly meant. Eyes beginning to become watery, mouth quivering with the oncoming emotional outburst. Akira took notice to the way he balled his fists in his lap, no anger behind them, more a way of control.

     A single tear made its way down, although, efforts to prevent it doing nothing in the end. A wide beam cutting through the seemingly trademarked frown, the beauty of the sun above couldn’t possibly compare. And any pretty thing he’d ever seen in his life, would never live up to the image before him.

     Instead of the glimpses of a smile he’d gotten from the photos inside, it was right there. Right in front of him, with the beautiful greenery of the very small backyard forcing the portrait of art before him. Analogous, Monochromatic? Magnificent, spectacular?… he didn’t know any of the terms, but we was sure that just one word couldn’t describe it in full.

     He was being strange again, yeah. But this time felt different, it had felt right, and not wrong by any means, the blond wiping away the tear, and letting out a boyish giggle, “You really are a nice person.”

      If his face was red before, he wondered how deeper it could’ve gone than what Sakamoto had said. Sure of it that tomato didn’t do it justice, he bowed his head as the heat gradually creeped up his cheeks. Trying to hide all the flusteredness through the mop of his hair.

      He’d never known about love, or anything remotely involving relationships.

      Moving before he’d even gotten a chance to get a crush, crushes and loving was something foreign. Just as this new town was, and just as adapting to Sojiro’s home, and the new type of family. He pictured himself learning from this situation. Hands on.

       Like the times he’d silently played along with Futaba, battling in video games, only speaking when Futaba jabbed at him for being awful. Slowly becoming acclimated into teasing her, and commentating every so often on their matches as a distraction. Weaving his way into the sibling friendship he never knew he needed.

        Hands on- in the way he helped at LeBlanc, and in the kitchen back at the house. Making his way into calling it a _home_ , he’d diced veggies, watched how to make his own curry. Even teaching the old man some new recipes he’d managed to pick up before he’d came.

           Sakamoto could be that way with him too... someday.

           Reaching over, he grabbed something from Akira’s bag, and memories suddenly came back at the manga revealed. Sort of proud at himself for packing it, never guessing it could be a bridge into a different conversation.

           “You… you uh- _like_? This sort of thing?” He seemed so unsure, that a small mass of doubt started to clot in his heart.

       Shrugging, Akira sat back, careful of his hands, “Yeah? Why?”

        Shaking his head in defense, Sakamoto wanted to stress his position, “No, no! I’m not meanin’ to judge or anythin’! I just didn’t know you liked BL is all.”

 

          _What?_

 

        He must’ve picked up on the confusion, waving it in the air, “Boys love? Yaoi manga?”

        Dread filled him.

       Someone replaced his blood with syrup, and it had slowed him down drastically. Like dumping glue in the motherboard of an old computer.

        Snorting, the blond had to cover his mouth, and Akira couldn’t focus on how cute that was at that moment, “Kurusu… this literally has graphic sex scenes right on the first page.”

       _What the fuck he was actually going to kill Futaba._

“I just blindly grabbed from my sisters room!” He exclaimed, reaching for the book, only to fall forward as it was yanked back. A snicker of enjoyment at his own expense.

      Huffing in frustration, he scrunched up his face in the sheer unfairness of it all, pouting like a child. How many times was he going to embarrass himself? Surely, he’d run out of fingers before he could stop counting.

      Stilling for a moment as laughter filled the space, Akira watched, arms folded, as the boy flipped through the pages. Taking note to how lovely the giggles sounded, all the heat from his cheeks staying in listening to it.

       If he could keep this up…

       Joking around a lot, before figuring Sojiro would like him home. Telling the guy all these fun stories about Futaba, and how many times the cat had actually gotten him in trouble.

      The crinkle in his smile, and the way his eyes closed at every ridiculous moment, had sent Akira to heaven and back. Wheeling his bike home (wincing every so often as the bandages on his knees caused a twinge of pain,) with the memory of the brilliant beam still in his head, he couldn’t hide his own giddiness. Bowing his head so he didn’t seem like some lunatic on the prowl at sundown.

       If he could muddle through all the awfulness hat came with his own personality, he was sure Sakamoto and him could grow closer.

         “Fantastic day today, huh?”

         Finding himself sat by the pond again two days after, koi swimming around freely as he picked at the grass in boredom. Lunch long gone, air filtering through the trees so much more different when alone, the far away sounds of his peers socializing made him oddly more at peace.

         “How little were you guys?” He asked into the thin air, like the koi would answer.

         Could goldfish really grow up to be that big? Or was the blond repeating something he’d heard from an unreliable source?

         A shadow came over him, and the sun was replaced by something even brighter.

          Yeah, he wasn’t expecting Sakamoto to appear, but he couldn’t possibly ever complain about that. Looking up from his spot with a grin, he basked in the shade created, and closed his eyes in the bliss of it all.

           Weather lovely, company amazing, when he opened his eyes to see the spiky bleached hair at his level, everything came together nicely. A deep breath bringing in the sweet smells of an early summer.

         “It’s nice being here without water being thrown at ya.” He tucked his chin over his knees, watching as two fish swirled around each other, “You talkin’ to ‘em?”

           _Well now that he mentioned it. He actually was,_ “Yes.”

         Sakamoto hummed in response, and they both sat for a moment. Speaking not necessarily to enjoy the little things about the whole situation before them… a big bubble from a bigger koi reaching the surface of the water… how small. And yet, how wonderful.

           “I haven’t seen the fatass around.” Sakamoto said.

            Quirking up a brow, the realization settled, “Oh! Because he’s grounded.”

           _That had earned a satisfying laugh, one bubblier than those air pockets made from the fish._

 Sighing loudly, Sakamoto fell back into the plush grass, feet dangerously close to the ponds edge, “Teruo’s fiancé really likes that cat.”

          He grinned when talking about her, something Akira would’ve thought to be a miracle, “Says she’s all lonely and shit cuz he’s gone.”

          Toying with the bandage on his palm, he watched the smile set into his face. So smoothly transitioning into a flat line, Akira sensed an oncoming mood shift.

           “I don’t… er… jeez,” he rolled his eyes at himself, “I don’t care if he comes over for a bit.”

           This _must’ve_ been one of Futaba’s “BL’s,” because he swore he could hear his heart go, _BADUMP._ Regulating his dumb breathing, and pulling at the collar of his shirt for air.

“And,” sighing loudly, he regretfully continued, “And you too… I guess.”

          Perhaps he was starting to understand this guy after all.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im really loving all these sweet comments (づ◡﹏◡)づ 
> 
> One more chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

       “I’d like number fifteen please.” Akira called out the man at the booth. Pride in winning the usual rigged festival game, the event popping up sooner than he’d ever expected.

      Futaba had abandoned him to go pester their friend Yusuke at the face paint station he was working. The last glimpse he caught was her gloating to virtually nobody about the fantastic ufo on her cheek. Something new for her, facing the packed crowds, he couldn’t really complain about it. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

       Ann, as expected, was off with her girlfriend Shiho. Leaving him alone to wander around aimlessly, mostly trying his hand at the various games. Only actually being able to win one thing the whole while he was there.

        His cousin Yu eas unavailable, and Sakamoto had never answered his text. Asking a couple hours ago to whether or not he wanted to accompany Akira to the festivities. Feeling rather lonely now, as the booths and chatter amongst the loads of locals became a blurred mess.

        Deep reds, and orange lights that stretched the whole vicinity, the softness displayed around him would’ve looked rather nice on his new friends face. Squeezing the plushie he’d managed to win tightly in his hand as he surveyed the crowd. Eyes dancing around the food stands, bouncing off the few blond heads he’d spotted…. he could be hopeful, right? 

         He’d remembered the way his face went scarlet the other day in school. About a week after his bike crash and subsequent confession time on the back porch, Sakamoto and him began to speak to each other on a regular basis. Eyes trained outside the window, ignoring the lesson being taught. 

         It wasn’t like he was paying that much attention anyway. It was just one of those days where the glass seemed far more interesting than maths. 

          Like a shiny metal reflected in the sun, he spotted the blond haired boy from all the way inside. Focus drifted downward for a moment, he wondered what it had meant that his gaze found Sakamoto immediately, not dropping upon realization. 

           He was in a PE uniform, stretching alone, separated from the rest of the kids in his class. A sad pang in his heart as he could see the indifference on his face, not at all bothered by the treatment he’d received. Rolling his shoulders, looking off into space as he prepared for whatever grueling task the gym teacher would throw at them.

         Sakamoto  _ was  _ pretty athletic though, wasn’t he? He looked good in the uniform, and the determination in his expression that read from such a distance had caused the whole lesson he had just little knowledge of, to fade away. Words that droned on in his head disappearing quickly as he stared into the courtyard. 

        Focusing on his leg, Akira couldn’t help but to touch on the rumors circulating in his head. The ones on how he got an awful injury. The ones about a fired teacher, and a ruined reputation.

         Sitting back, he sighed in the heat. Wondering why, and giving his best wishes to the boys outside exercising in the humid weather.

         That’s when they made direct eye contact. Locking in from a distance, Akira sucked in all the air in the vicinity, startled by the suddenness, his pupils most likely blown wide. Sakamoto just standing there with question in his face as to why they were having an impromptu staring contest.

_ Oh no his throat. _

          Except, Akira kinda swallowed the gum he forgot he was chewing in that process. Breaking the mold of the set in slow motion movements as he reached up to clutch at his throat. 

         His headstone shall read, “Kurusu Akira, died from a crush induced heart attack, while chewing gum.” 

_ That ought to bring him attention, huh?  _ Bring the news channels to school so they can report on the idiotic life they lost that, kinda wasn’t even memorable to mourn. 

           “Kurusu, if you’re going to cause a distraction, please feel free to leave my classroom.” His teacher called out, halting the sudden erratic flailing he’d managed to do without taking notice.

             He froze a second, making a complete fool of himself as he stared down the authority. Cheeks puffed out in a vain attempt to open up his throat enough to cough it up. 

          Arching a brow, the teacher stood expectantly, “Well?” 

 

           ….

          Anyway, who believed the myth about swallowing gum? It surely was fabricated to get children to not eat it, it obviously wasn’t meant to be used that way. 

          A quick internet search kind of threw off his skewed approach to an excuse. Your body can’t digest it? He was sure his body had gone through loads of unnecessarily spicy curry, so what? Is his stomach that stupid? 

           Some guy slammed into him, and his thoughts derailed into something of annoyance. Festival prize gripped in his hands as he turned to give them a piece of his mind. Shouldn’t you be paying more attention at a big event such as this?

         A red headed guy, not much older than him, scowled back something fierce. Something that vividly reminded him of Sakamoto, but much more aggressive. Eyes that bore into his soul stared him down, and suddenly, he didn’t really wanna say something snarky. 

         “Um, heh, I apologize!” He flashed a small grin. 

         Furrowing his brow, he stared a moment. And Akira nervously stared back, taking notice to his face, pinched in perpetual anger. 

          The red head scoffed, “You remind me of a watered down version of a person I know.”

          How ironic. Because by the way his face twisted in the next moments, he was just about to tell him how much he resembled the blond, but… ten times the personality. It was uncanny. Loud hair and all.

           Another guy came barreling through, pushing past Akira with no care as he hooked an arm around the angry man, and began pulling him away from the awkward scene.

         Tall, messy hair, steel grey eyes. Causing an absurd amount of annoyance to the other judging by the look plastered on his face. Could that be the person he was referring to?

         The whole thing made him think… did he come off like that to the public? 

           Just as he began to hear the red headed man’s complaining disappear through the crowds. He instinctively looked behind him. A dimly lit alleyway greeting him, he glanced around the area. Taking note to all the places he’d been during the night.

          Deciding to take a breather from the stuffy streets and claustrophobia inducing booths, he shoved the cheap stuffed toy he’d won into his back pocket. 

          Meanwhile. The blond boy of his thoughts sprinted down the deserted streets.

          Akira would've never known Sakamoto was as distraught as he was if fate didn’t bring them together for the billionth time. Like a rubber band, Akira could’ve guessed their relationship was born to test its reach. 

        Stepping into the refreshing outside, he closed his eyes, and felt the world shift into something cooler. Standing and admiring the lovely nighttime scenery.

         For once, Sakamoto was the one deep in over his head with his thinking.

 

       The point of views changed, and so did the meaning to everything from then on out.

 

_ He’d always been bad at showing his feelings.  _ Ryuji had known that for ages. Only one prevalent being anger, he cursed himself as he dashed around the corner. 

         Tears burned in his eyes, legs ached for relief, and come to think of it.  _ He’d always thought that of himself.  _ Chest tightening as he rounded a new block. 

         If maybe,  _ maybe _ , when he was younger, he assumed he’d grow into these feelings- (or, lack thereof.) never knowing everything that would fall afterwards, he was completely wrong. Wrong in almost every way possible. 

_ He’d known.  _ Although deeply ignored- that goldfish didn’t live forever. 

         His shoelace was becoming loose, but he couldn’t be bothered to stop. Rather to take the pavement to his face than get distracted by something so small. 

          Teruo had told him just moments before, that he wouldn’t be coming around often anymore. That Ryuji was a grown boy, who didn’t need some guy taking care of him.  _ He said he was proud,  _ and that's what stung the most.

          If he was so proud, couldn’t him giving up everything for Ryuji be a reward? Couldn’t he be selfish and steal him away forever? 

          He’d gotten the text from Kurusu just as tears threatened, and fate had sewn them together once again. Legs moving instinctively faster than his brain to process. Leaping out his window, to start an endless sprint. One that would never stop until it was eased into a slow pace by gentle hands. 

_ He was going to find that fluffy haired jackass.  _

__ Because _ ,  _ to make everything worse, he craved to be treated nicely by him. To accept the praise with arms wide open, to give in to everything. 

           But. If it happened to end up how it had with Teruo, it would only lead to unimaginable pain. 

            He swore he saw the glimpse of black and white fur whizz by as he splashed through a puddle. Muddy street water soaking his shoes without a care… when did it rain? How far away was summer? 

           Summer was when Teruo won him that fish. Cheering him up after the third night his mom had to work in a row, it had lived far longer than expected. Thriving through different bowls and tanks, living with the assorted rocks he’d find to place in there.

            He was sure the same festival Kurusu had invited him to, was the one from his memories. And, as much as he wanted to make the new memories that could be matched up with the past, he couldn’t…

           Well… catching wind in his T-shirt as the lights and cheerful voices neared… he sort of went against himself, huh? So much for not going to the festival. So much for pushing away Kurusu.

_ “Lately you seem down, Ryuji,”  _ he had said before breaking the news. 

_ “It’s not because of that dumb fish, right? We can always find a replacement! The festival is going on right now-“ _

__ He had to interrupt. His whole body had started to go numb, and his pulse slowed… Those words stung too much. He didn’t know how hurtful they were to Ryuji. He never would. 

          Excuses, excuses. One mental breakdown later, he found himself sprinting toward the blurry outline similar to the boy with the cat. 

          It all didn’t matter. He just needed a hug.

          Well. A hug that he’d deny. He wasn’t too good at initiating embraces like that, and they’d always felt awkward. But, Kurusu’s arms wrapped tightly around him sounded good right about then. Face already burning at the thought as he squinted ahead, watching the mass get clearer and clearer, teary eyes not helping very much.

          God his mind was all over the place. How could that shaggy haired beautiful bastard stay so composed?… were his thoughts all filed perfectly and neatly in his head? Because it seemed he always knew what to say. 

          He had ran from the house when Teruo went to go answer the phone. And now here he was. Feet going a mile a minute down the sidewalk to his inevitable doom.

           Meanwhile, on the other end of the fucked up brain spectrum. Akira stood quietly, enjoying the nighttime air. Phone buzzing as a reminder to a text he was purposely ignoring.

 

**Futaba 9:46 pm**

Bro did you ditch us to go meet up with some girlfriend you didn’t tell me about? (;¬_¬)

 

          Two minutes later, he’d sighed at another.

 

**Ann 9:48 pm**

Futaba told me you left to snog some girl. When were you gonna tell me you got one you ass!? >:(

 

          Girlfriend? Please. 

           Right now, really, the only one in his heart was a certain spitfire blond. Smile sending a prickling heat to his cheeks as he thought about how they’d interacted the last few days. At school, on the way home. Picking up Mona the other night because he got stuck in another trash can at Sakamoto’s apartments. 

             Speak of the devil, he’d been followed closely by that fat rascal. Watching him bathe himself in the light of the lamps above, Morgana had somehow made it the whole festival without getting harassed by any neighbor kids. 

             Running around so much, how come he was still as heavy? Dumb animal… probably begging for scraps like a feral. 

             Speak of the other devil. He bent down to stroke the soft fur behind Mona’s ear, watching with a simplistic delight as he purred. 

            Then. He found himself on the ground. 

            He wasn’t shoved. And he certainly didn’t tumble over on his own stupidity. 

             The answer lay buried into his chest. Holding on to his shirt tightly, breathing erratic and heavy, Akira grimaced at yet another unfortunate situation he found himself in. 

            “Sakamoto? Are you-“ 

            “Shaddup.” 

            Blinking, Akira didn’t shut up, “If you insist.” 

            Sakamoto frowned against his chest, and Akira wondered just how hard it was beating for him. Was this even comfortable..? Well, not for him certainly, but was the blond currently crushing him okay with laying like this? 

             If Akira didn’t think about circumstances enough, he could picture this in his own bed. Sprawled across each other. 

_ Fully clothed!  _ Yes. Yes. He wasn’t dirty. He was just hopeful. And sometimes those two mixed unintentionally. He had no desire to see  _ anyone  _ naked, let alone the boy he’d just met.

           Maybe someday, though. 

           His face began to heat up. Why the hell did he have these thoughts? 

             Wordlessly, after an awkward pause, they both helped each other up. Their routine, “I’m gonna fall over,” session coming to an end. 

             Standing, it was then when Akira had gone pale in the realization that their hands had suddenly found themselves wound in the others. Holding on rather tightly too, why couldn’t he pull away? 

           “You okay?” 

           It was Sakamoto’s turn to blink rather hard this time, “I’m sorry for slammin’ into you.”

           Akira scrunched up his face and waved him off, “Oh no, I was just a bit startled is all.” 

          Nodding along with him, the blond seemed to take in the surroundings. Like the sudden realization of where he was had surprised him, even though he’s the one that found his way here anyway. 

          “I ran away from home because he said he wasn’t gonna come around as often,” he looked down to their hands, “I was gonna lash out, but I left instead.” 

       Well that sort of explained why he was confused. 

        Throwing a slight smile into the bargain of whatever it took to sooth the boy, Akira shook his head and laughed lightly, “It’s because you’re a good person, Sakamoto.” 

         A cool wind found its way between them, seemingly out of nowhere, it shifted the whole warm night into something different. Something more meaningful than before.

          What a waste to be idling in the streets, loud laughter of patrons behind them. Lights glowing something spectacular to the face before Akira, it was hard not to notice the hooded features grow disheartened. 

         They should be in there having fun. He should be tugging around the blond, smiling at his resistance to fun, and introducing him to all his friends. Win him as many toys and prizes as he could manage… shoulda, coulda, woulda.

          “No,” Sakamoto interjected the paused conversation, “I’m not good.” 

         Shaking his head, he fell from the hold on his right hand, and brought it up to press to his mouth. Still tightly wrapped with the left, his wobbly breaths caught Akira’s attention. Trying not to focus on all the misery painted on his face, clashing with the orange glow and dark blue hue of the mixing night sky.

        “But you are.” Akira insisted. 

        Sakamoto scoffed and grimaced, all the emotions of displeasure evident, “I’m not… I’m not good at all, man.” 

         “It’s always been so rough on me,” he stopped to elaborate, “Just… most everythin’.” 

          Oh fuck he was diving in deep again and Akira forgot his snorkel. Tightening his chest as he sought out words good enough to soothe the broken kid across from him. Old glue marks of past mistakes evident, he wanted to make it stronger, to make it stick, and make him feel lovely. 

          Shrugging in response and slightly squeezing on the remaining hand holding, Akira watched the saddened eyes stare back at him. Trying his best consoling, “That’s completely okay.” 

          “What if I’m just using you for a rebound? Someone to help me out of this shit so I can run away?” He asked sincerely, although rather regretfully, Akira knew he didn’t have the will to be heartless, no matter how much his face displayed it. 

          Pursing his lips in an attempt to make it look like he wasn’t going on a whim, Akira had a sparkle to his motivational speech, “You aren’t. Because you’re a great person.” 

         He laughed, “If anything, I’m the bad guy. I too have ulterior motives.” 

          Sakamoto snapped his mouth shut. Confusion spreading throughout his face before the questioning glare, it was a wave of various emotions, and Akira had to find a way to say something that didn’t make him come off as an asshole. 

          They were still holding hands… they were still awkward despite every situation they’d sent themselves through together. And it all started with a dumb pond, and a sad blond. 

 

            “I just wanted to see you smile.”

 

            The world stilled. And Akira’s words floated around him like mistakes, fishing line made of a daring move. He took the bait on the end of the hook, and went for it. Not caring for the consequences, just the food. 

          He was frozen, still staring at Akira in shock at his words. Had he screwed up? Was this the end? 

          It was hard not to catch the small grin that tugged on the corners of his lips… trying to keep itself under control as he scrunched up. Not recoiling, but melting under the sudden praise. 

          A snicker escaped from Akira’s own mouth, and he watched as the blond stilled again.

          “Are-“ he struggled over his words, “Are you hittin’ on me?” 

_ What, what, what, what? No. no no no. Wait wait wait.  _

__ Well shit. 

         He had to be honest, right? They’d never get anywhere with all these coy feelings and dances around certain subjects, now would they? 

         Shrugging away, Akira wanted his face to be hidden. Spare him the embarrassment of his flushed cheeks and wobbly smile, “You’re not… necessarily wrong…”

          “Hitting on..? That’s a bit-“ 

           Sakamoto let out an airy laugh that just about sent the other to his knees, “You’re useless.” 

_ The nerve.  _

__ “That-  _ useless!?”  _ His voice went higher than expected. 

            He snickered in response, “I’m jus’ teasing… maybe.”

            They stood.

            And… they stood. 

_ And they continued to stand. In complete silence.  _ Mona getting tired of it all, and running away with a flick of the tail. 

           Akira should probably put in the initiative to speak, huh? He knew Ryuji was always hesitant and very awkward. 

            “If… if you wish to not go home, would you like to come to my place?” He proposed, leaning forward with hope instilled in his posture.

             The blond tensed up. And that’s when their hands both grew sweaty.  _ Did he misunderstand his motive?  _

__ Shaking his head and waving his free hand wildly, he denied the bad thoughts, “Nothing weird, I swear! My family won’t be home-“

_ Ah shit that sounded even worse. _

__ “Things are a bit iffy at your home, I thought you’d like to get away.” 

_ Okay that was better.  _

__ Sakamoto nodded.

            Akira almost fell over at the implication and idea of Sakamoto in his house. Sakamoto seeing his kinda gross, kinda messy room… 

            When they began their trek, he was so busy in the head, that he’d almost forgotten where the Sakura household was. Mouth suddenly going dry, their hands fell somewhere along the line, and maybe it was for the better. Clammy and gross wasn’t something he wanted to be remembered by.

          Futaba was probably still harassing Yusuke and pestering all his other friends she decided to steal. Showing them useless things, begging them to take her to booths and rides she couldn’t gather the courage to go to herself, 

            Akira was proud of her,  _ that  _ he wasn’t going to downplay. As annoying as she could be nowadays, she was growing into the social life. 

          Sojiro on the other hand, would probably be selling his curry and coffee into the night. Ecstatic that the festival had fallen right in front of the cafe this year. Door open 24/7, Akira was just glad he wasn’t asked to work. 

           Besides, this was Sojiros time to flirt with all the unmarried women. He wasn’t going to barge in on that. 

         He just had to breathe. Enjoy the night air before he couldn’t, and bask in the beauty that was the moonlight to Sakamoto’s face. The shadows defining his features, and highlighting the few stray strands of hair sticking out. 

          Sidewalk uneven, it hadn’t mattered. He was content with how things were going at the current moment…. somehow he’d gotten the boy he was crushing on, to come to his house?

           If he could boast. He’d say he was pretty damn proud of himself. 

            He’d brought the one he had eyes for, all the way to his home. 

            “You can cook?” 

_ And his snide, -unknowingly rude- comments, wouldn’t damper his mood.  _

__ He’d brought the one he had eyes for, all the way to his home. To be  _ insulted.  _

              Taking in a deep breath, and trying not to show his disheartening quiver to his lips. He closed his eyes. Waiting to hear the familiar clank of the spoon to test his curry. 

             “My adoptive father, Sojiro. He taught me how to make curry.” Akira paused to remember the countless errors it took to get to this point in his culinary adventures, “It’s really the only thing I can do perfectly.” 

              A hum as a response, the silence was the only indicator to whether or not it truly did live up to what was being said. 

             “I really like it.” His stare was felt, and met immediately with widened eyes behind frames that made them all the more large, “Heh… uh. Yeah. It’s effin’ good.” 

_ Effin’ _

__ How could such a broken word sound so beautiful? 

             “My ma is a wonderful person.” 

            Suddenly the beauty dropped, and Akira was all ears. Prepared and ready for any new information about the mystery of a person in front of him.

        Biting down onto his lip like it didn’t drive the other crazy, he smiled at thinking of her. And it warmed up Akira more than it should’ve, “She jus’ works far too much. So, I kinda had to learn how to cook myself.” 

          “When Teruo would leave, i’d make sure to have a nice dinner ready for her to come home to.”

           He continued, repeating a swivel motion into the curry, “Bastard dad. Didn’t know how much I’d come to rely on the only male figure in my life.” 

         With a heavy sigh, he dropped his spoon.

         This was getting deep again. As fast as it always had with them.

          “I thought maybe I could throw away the fish bowl. But…” 

         Eye contact bringing the wave of anxiety in Akira, Sakamoto stared with some purpose unknown to the other. 

          “Thanks to you, I think I finally can.” 

_ Oh my god oh my god.  _

__ He wasn’t prepared for any of this, he had to at least do some breathing exercises, right? He needed to live in order to come through this situation. 

            They should be under a sakura tree for this sentimental moment. Not on the floor eating curry while fireworks popped off in the distance… no no no. This wasn’t right!! 

            “So, yeah. You said you wanted to see me smile n’ shit?”  

             Fuck he was asking a question. 

_ Fuck he was asking a question.  _

__ Expectancy written in his face, Akira had to hold back any urge to vomit all over him. Heart jumping into his throat, eyes blown wide in everything added together. 

              He couldn’t sit there like a dumbass forever, as much as he’d prefer to do. 

              Why was this particular scene so hard? All he had to do was nod, or say, ‘yes.’ So why wouldn’t he respond with anything but being a mass of frozen boy. Stuck in the ice due to his own stupid tendencies.

_ Do it do it do it. _

__ “I like you.”

 

_ That wasn’t what you were supposed to do!!!!! _

 

__ “I wasn’t able to say it back there.” 

_ Akira what the fuck listen to yourself. Is the lack of oxygen in your brain causing you to become delusional!? _

__ If this wasn’t as far away from an ideal confession as he’d pictured… god. 

              He wanted to get up and to toss himself into some trash can, ask kindly for a match to let himself go with a blaze of glory. Smell of burnt flesh and garbage much more preferable than the feeling of absolute misery currently. 

             Well. Fuck it all he guessed. 

            “When I heard about you and your babysitter, it was eye opening to what love could feel like.”  _ Not too cheesy.  _

             Smiling, he reached out towards the rather shocked looking boy in front of him. Taking notice now to his ghostly expression. 

             He was spooked, and rightfully so. Being confessed to on the spot like that, by some imbecile nonetheless, was probably a big bombshell he wasn’t prepared for. Not even something as much as a warning to duck and cover. 

            “Obviously you don’t like talking about it. But I think it was beautiful, and sweet.” 

               Reaching into his back pocket finally. The dumb, waste-your-money festival games had once and for all come in use. 

               Pulling out a stuffed fish, he looked down at the poorly sewn thing, “I know I’m not your babysitter. And I won’t ever be anywhere near being like him, but…” 

             With one hand outstretched, he offered up the plushie, “I want to stay by your side… and look!… this one can’t die.” 

              Sakamoto hesitantly reached out, making Akira feel as if he was some kind of puppy he was coaxing. Watching intently as his hand lay on the stuffed animal, fingers brushing against Akira’s. 

 

             “But… I’m a guy.” 

 

             Akira just about deadpanned, trying to hide his sudden mood fall with a forced laugh, “You’re the one bringing that up?”

            His face twisted, something Akira had to make sure he looked for. A sign to whether or not his actions were good enough to deserve so much as a grin. Was he okay? Would they both get through this without dying of heatstroke? 

             Faces both so warm, before he’d even registered, the blond had shuffled forward. Grabbing the plushie hastily before collapsing onto the fluffy haired boy with a  _ thud!  _

              Almost immediately, like it was magnetic, both of their arms wrapped around each other’s. Wordless in the exchange, festival sounds still lively outside. If you heard hard enough, you’d be able to hear the summertime crickets singing their tunes. 

            This was perfect. This was-

_ Sniffle?  _ Who was sniffling? 

            Akira leaned back in the hold, and watched as a few tears blotted his tank top. The boy in his arms not phased as they fell from his eyes. They had to be happy tears, right? 

             Reaching up to comb through the rather strawlike spikes in his hair, he got the attention to their owner. Looking down with sympathy, “Are you crying, Sakamoto?”

_ “No.”  _

__ He laughed in response. A hiccup between them saying otherwise, “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” 

               Blunt nails dug into his back, and he almost immediately knew he’d made a mistake.

               “So help me god if you call me a crybaby imma punch you.” 

          Feigning innocence, the other had made sure to try and sooth his worries with more comfort, “I’ve never said that!” Words accompanied by the most magical sparkle to his eyes. 

           Sakamoto’s end of the world saw all the beauty, and took a chance, shifting upwards towards the boy. Feeling the fingers ghost down to his back as he crawled closer.

            Finally the shift between both boys seemed to settle, chests heaving at even the implications of what this had meant. For fucks sake, their noses were touching. 

            “Me too.” Sakamoto let his lips quirk up, “I wanna stay by your side.” 

              Holy shit holy shit. Sweet baby Jesus they’re gonna kiss.

               Here’s to hoping his breath didn’t stink. Here’s to hoping they both actually knew how to kiss in the first place. What did you do? Press your lips together and hope for the best? 

             Both so incredibly nervous, Akira moved ever so slightly forward. The blond matching him as his mouth found its way to brush across the nice, warm pink of Akira’s lips. 

             “AKIRA YOU BASTARD!” 

 

             They both fell over. 

 

             Sakamoto scrambled away, and touched his lips. Like the words had come from his own mouth, and propelled him backwards. 

            A door slammed, and the startled boy watched as the one who took claim to the name grimaced. Thuds of footsteps echoing, hand finding its way to slap him in the face. 

            “You better not be doing dirty things you rotten!-“ 

             Futaba halted in the doorway, “Oh.” 

            What must she have been thinking? Coming upon such a scene, and standing rather dumbfounded at what she’d saw.

             She looked at the two on the floor. Stuffed fish occupying the rather large space between them. Both flushed and obviously embarrassed as they avoided any sort of eye contact. The blond one with a fist pressed to his mouth. 

             If she read this correctly…  _ “Oh.”  _

__ Could she hear them breathing? Yes. Could she pin together what was going on? Double yes. 

             “Imma… I’m just gonna go upstairs now.” She slowly backed away, hands up in defense at the whole situation she’d found herself walking upon, “Don’t do any nasty things down here or I’m telling Sojiro.”

_ Stupid siblings.  _

_           Stupid emotions.  _

_           Stupid….  _ “Pfffft.” 

         Oh? 

         Akira looked up, and Futaba wasn’t just a stupid baby sister with no moral compass. She was a guiding light into something so wonderful. 

         Gone now, she’d left Akira to witness the bubbly laughter of Sakamoto. Hunched in on himself, scowl somewhere far away as he clutched at his stomach. Such wonderful sounds bouncing off the walls, it was like they were transported somewhere so magical. 

           Where the fireworks suddenly inside? Because it seemed likely. Sparks behind the wide smile on the blond boy, eyes crinkling like he’d seen in some of the photos on the wall at his apartment. Shifting into a beautiful display, proud to present the beam Akira was looking for this whole time. 

            He’d wished they were somewhere more nice looking, like a dark field, fireflies blipping in the background… something cheesy like that. 

            It took everything he had not to lunge forward and smother Sakamoto with all the love he held. So, he guessed laughing in return would suffice. 

           He might just forget to breathe. 

           Love was so much more complicated, and troublesome than tiny and big Akira could imagine. Movies lying at how easy it was, would he even want it to be smooth? 

           Akira quite preferred the bumpy ride that took the two all the way back to that pond. 

           The start, the middle, and finale had placed both boys at the edge of the water. Staring at the coy, wordless as the midsummer breeze rustled the ratty hair Akira had forgotten to brush that morning. Leaves above singing their song dedicated to the wind, some things never changed. 

           The fish had gotten bigger. Sakamoto had commented that,  “They’d might start stickin’ right up out of the dirty water. Probably make a good fight against Morgana,” and Akira snorted at the idea of it all. 

         “We ended up back here, huh Sakamoto?” He asked, picking at the grass beneath his fingers, and tearing it apart with no thought. 

          A warm gust of wind on the rather breezy day complimented the subject, Akira quite enjoying the feeling. Reminding him of all the way back then, the sunlight caught in the blond locks, and made the oncoming dark roots more evident. 

           “I told you, ya can call me Ryuji, you dork.” He nudged him playfully, “And yeah, but a lot has changed… everything did a 360, amirite?” 

 

_ 360?  _

 

_             Didn’t that mean..?  _ Ah. Whatever, let him have his moment. 

            Leaning over. Just as  _ Ryuji  _ was about to say something more, Akira pressed a simple kiss to the unfairly soft lips of the other. Shutting him up, and causing the shock to course through both of them as they closed their eyes rather quickly. 

             Huh. He didn’t really think he would do that. 

             Why- why  _ did _ he do that? 

             “Wha-“ Ryuji leaned back, all flustered and cute. Something Akira wanted to make last forever. 

             Because, some photo books end with no other slots ever to be filled. Whether it be death, fallout, or a broken camera, he wanted this album to keep going. 

              “What’s with that timin’!?” 

               He grinned and covered his face, “I’m a young boy with desires!” 

              “Besides we couldn’t do it the other day because of my sister!” He added, looking through the cracks between his fingers to find the fuzzy image of a flushed boy with a lovely foliage background. 

                Rolling his eyes and hiding himself by turning away, nothing could be done to take away the obvious flusteredness of his face. What a butthole Akira must be. 

              A bird squawked, and Ryuji took that chance, “Ya know? I want to do things with you too.” 

             Arching a brow, Akira dared to say, “Is that so?” 

_ As a young boy with desires, this went far very quickly. _

__ Chuckling as he moved in closer, Ryuji's hot breath tickled Akira’s ear. Both hiding their giggles in favor of speaking, what did they look like from far away? Was this too strange? 

              “Summer breaks just started.” He whispered. 

             Akira had died on the spot.

 

 

            “Let’s go to the festival together.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all that read and commented and kudos! 
> 
> This is a bullshit story I pulled inspo from a BL manga. I changed a bunch, but my pals and your support propelled me forward! 
> 
> See you on the next one! I always switch between sad and funny, so, expect the sads! 
> 
> ( ˘ ³˘)♥

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback! It fuels me to continue and get these out speedy fast! This one is gonna be rather short! 4 chapters tops (ᵔᴥᵔ)


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